


Red

by TheSleepyNinja15



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 03:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14346744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSleepyNinja15/pseuds/TheSleepyNinja15
Summary: Lelouch is invited to a painting exhibit and there he reminisces the moments when he had the greatest miracle of his life. This is inspired by EXO's wonderful song, 'Universe'. AU, Oneshot.





	Red

How long has it been since he had seen the color 'red' this way? Two years? Three? His memory is as hazy as remembering what particular shade of red she was always using.

_"It's the color of emotions," she had said once when they were out on a date at a park and she had picked a bloody red stray flower from the ground._

_"Emotions? Isn't there an assigned color for every emotion out there?" he had asked not mockingly._

_She smiled gently._   _"There is, but red is such a prevailing color, much more striking than yellow, much more intense than black. Just like with our emotions, we always feel a lot but we settle with the strongest one and it will overshadow the others."_

_"What an odd thought."_

What an odd thought, indeed. That was what? Four years ago? He can still remember how her silky emerald hair danced with the breeze as a cool wind blew their way. How her citrus scent invaded his senses until the only words that ran in his head were, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

His eyes trace the flowing red hair of the girl until they reach her delicate neck which was painted in a lighter shade of red showing its fragility and vulnerability. Her neck that is swan-like, smooth and soft.

_"You know that I'm not ticklish there._

_He sighed defeated. "It's a wonder really. But there's no harm in trying, right?" His fingers that were attempting to tickle her neck before started to massage her soft, ivory skin. He could feel the tension of her nerves and the_   _strain whenever she turned her head._

_A pleasured moan escaped from her lips. "Ah, yes, that's it."_

_Pressing his fingers harder but not painfully, he asked, "How long have you been working? Have you even eaten anything?"_

_"I will after I'm done with this project. And for your first question, I've been working for about five hours now," she replied._

_"Non-stop?"_

_"Well, I'm on a break now, right?" A playful smirk was gracing her lips, but he didn't like the idea of her overworking herself to the point of neglecting her health. She had been working on this project for months now, and eventhough he understood, he very much understood, that this was her passion and dream, he could not help but worry about her welfare._

_There had been a lot of sleepless nights, impulsive late night strolls to find the right inspiration and frustrated muffled screams when inspiration was cruelly avoiding her._

_Dark_   _bags were clinging beneath her beautiful golden eyes, and her fair skin was a shade paler than her normal one._

_He looked at her current output and admired how this slender, soft-spoken young woman could create a whole galaxy of stars and meteors surrounding a lone scarlet flower. Because when inspiration finally hits her, oh God when it finally hits her, there's no stopping the flow of creation that would come_   _out of her hands._

"Would you like a drink, sir?"

He glances at the waiter who has a very open face topped with curly brown hair. He envies the look of innocence and youthfulness in him. For the waiter, he might look like someone who had been to the depths of Hell and came out losing his humanity. Well, that might be a tad exaggerated, but indeed he'd been in Hell and still is. At the age of 25, he had done the most difficult and worst choice in his life and experienced losing said  _life_.

Reaching for a glass of wine, he thanks the young man and moves over to the next painting.

This one is of a fiery phoenix flying in a starless night sky. Its massive wings are spread out like the blanket of death, waiting to gather the soul of whoever unfortunate human being they graced upon. It reminds him of the fires of Hell, not that he had actually seen it, well almost, metaphorically, but he recalls it as a common knowledge, a well-known fact that has always been stored in his brain who knows since when.

It reminds him of anger.

It reminds him of betrayal.

_Betrayal leaked from her upon hearing the words he wished he could get back. He wished he could turn back the time to when she was ignorant of the thing he had done that not only burned his already shattered heart into ashes but also killed the remaining glint of life in her dull gold eyes._

_"Why?" she softly asked as though the mere act of breathing out that single syllable was a tiring chore that she was so fed up doing. But her narrow_   _shoulders were up to her ears and her hands that could create miracles and magic were tightly closed, shaking._

_"I have to or else – "_

_"You have to? YOU have to?" She released a mirthless laugh as she threw her hands in the air. "And what about me? What about everything I've done, everything I've sacrificed and worked hard for to get in_   _this position? What about my dream?"_

_"Your dream is killing you!"_

_"You're killing me now, Lelouch!" Shaking, she walked towards him until her index finger was touching his chest. All her anger being directed to that one finger, until it was transferred to him, to his heart, to his soul. It's getting harder for him to breathe. "You are killing me," she whispered, "You of all people, the one who I trusted the most, the one who I_   _thought believes in me, the one I thought would support me in reaching my dreams. You… I thought you love me?"_

_"I love you, always, but C.C. I can't just sit here and watch you slowly wither before my eyes. You've been to the hospital five times already in the span of three months because you've been overworking. You've been prescribed so many medicines for your mental breakdowns. Look at you now! Do you know how thinner you've gotten? I won't let you throw away your health just for the sake of this mini painting exhibition they offered you that no one knows about!"_

_As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he had made the greatest mistake. He could see the shock in her wide round eyes, and he might as well be mirroring her expression. Both of them frozen in time, no one moving, hardly believing that those words were really uttered between them. He didn't dare to breathe because breathing meant he couldn't avoid the inevitable._

_He knew that if she takes that first_   _step away from him he would lose her forever, she would be gone to him for good. So he grabbed the index finger that rested still on his chest and never let go. "C.C. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean – "_

_She's shaking her head so hard, she's trying to step away from him. No, God no, please, he can't lose her. "How dare_  you,"  _she said softly yet her eyes were glimmering with unleashed anger and hurt. "Let go of me. Let go of me, Lelouch."_

_"Cecilia…"_

_"Don't ever call me that again. You lose the right of calling me by that_   _name. Now let go of me."_

_This couldn't be happening. He just wanted to save her from herself. To keep her from being consumed by the monster of insecurity and ambition. That's the reason why he talked to the organizer of the exhibition without her knowledge. Why he asked him to cancel the event because it was taking a dangerous toll on her. He was already losing her in the process, he couldn't lose her for good._   _And if he talked to her about his plan, she'd just shrug it off and convince him that everything was fine. But five hospital trips were never fine, right? Being prescribed with anti-anxiety meds was never a sign of everything going on smoothly, right? Especially when those medicines do very little in making the situation better._

_"C.C. please, I can't lose you."_

_"You already have. Now let go of my_   _finger or I swear to God you won't see me ever again," she said._

_And consumed by the fear of not laying his eyes on the greatest miracle that happened to him, he let go._

"Hey, long time no see."

He glances at his right and finds a familiar crown of red hair. "Well, hello there, Kallen. It's been a while."

"Two and a half years to be exact," she says in a mocking tone then she returns to gaze at the painting.

"Thank you for reminding me," he replies, and in a lower voice he mutters, "As if I'm not already counting."

"They're all beautiful, right? All of them are masterpieces on their own," the woman beside him says.

This time, he looks closer to the phoenix and notices the intricate way its fiery feathers are painted, as if each one is given lengthy time to be drawn, to capture both the intensity and softness of every feather.

"Yes, they all are," he says softly with a hint of a proud smile on his lips.

"So how's Shirley?"

His smile quickly drops and is replaced by a frown. "Last I heard from her, she is happily engaged to a Chinese man named Mao. Why?"

"So you've broken up."

He lets out a chuckle. "We didn't even last three months. I can't even tell if we really did date for that matter."

"And when was this?"

"More than a year ago. Why are you asking?"

But Kallen does not answer him, instead she says, "Oh, Lamperouge, you cruel boy. Breaking hearts here and there," with a hint of bitterness in her voice. Well, he can't blame her. He is the enemy in her eyes. The bad guy. The ex-who-shall-not-be-named of her bestfriend.

"And what about you, Stadtfield? Are you still doing drag racing?" he asks although what he really wanted to say is  _What about her? Is she doing well?_

She nods. "Uh-huh. But not as often as before. Gino gets so anxious whenever I tell him I'll race. It almost gets to the point of him riding shotgun with me just to be assured that I am safe. You know, Gino being Gino."

"So you're still together?"

"Fortunately and unfortunately, yes." But the adoration in her voice tramples the intended playful sarcasm in her statement.

A comfortable silence ensues between them. His mind goes back to the memory of a ginger-haired woman who he tried to move on with but failed. Shirley was a good companion. Bubbly and energetic. There were seldom dull moments when he was with her. But that's just what she was, a companion.

What he was used to, and what he still craves for are little silent moments, when all you could hear are the strokes of a brush, the delicate tones of the piano he is playing as she creates another masterpiece, the comfort that lingers in the air from the assurance of two hearts beating as one.

"She's doing okay, you know. She's happy that she's able to do what she loves and gets to travel because of it," Kallen suddenly says, breaking the silence.

"Yeah?"

"Mmm-hmm. She has come a long way." She looks pointedly at him. "From exhibits where almost no one comes to big events attended by respected artists. Some of her arts are even being offered to be auctioned."

An overflowing sense of pride threatens to burst out of his chest. She did it! She really did it! Did he doubt her before? No, he didn't. He believed in her more than he believed in himself. She just exceeded his expectations. She just surpassed her dreams.

Ever since that fateful night, he tried to be updated of her every activity and achievement. But what with the arrival of his own success in playing the piano, having solo conciertos, practicing day and night, travelling to different cities almost each week in the past two years, he lost time to follow news about her.

But he never stops. He never stops loving her.

In every city, he wondered if they were seeing the same sky, feeling the same cold weather or sharing the same air they breathed. In every concierto, he wondered if she had heard news about it, if she had seen a poster and contemplated on watching him play. But it was a selfish wish to make. With all the hurtful words he had said to her, it was so selfish of him to long for her pride for the achievements he had made. But this every success, the every note from his piano, his every concierto is for her. Hoping that his message would somehow reach her.

He never stops trying to find her.

_"Red is the color of love."_

_"C.C., that is so cliché."_

_"But it is also the color of pain. How fascinating it is, right, Lelouch?" She looked up from where she laid on his chest, the two of them having a tender moment after sharing a passionate night before. Her golden eyes were curious_   _and glowing. Some strands of her green hair were sticking to her cheek. So cute, he thought. He couldn't help but gave her a light peck on her forehead before answering._

_"A single color for two opposite emotions. One of Heaven and one of Hell," he said._

_"Ah, so we're getting poetic now, huh?"_   _she teased. He rolled his eyes in response. "But they're connected," she added. "One cannot love wholeheartedly without experiencing pain. And one could not experience pain from something, or someone he or she doesn't love."_

_He frowned at that idea. "But I don't love tables yet it damn hurts whenever I bump my toes on their legs."_

_He felt a light pinch on his side. "Lelouch, your jokes are terrible. Good thing they're not the first thing I knew about you or else we wouldn't be in this position."_

_"But you love me anyway."_

_At that, she let out a gentle, genuine smile solely for him. The smile that only the selected few who were allowed beyond her barriers could witness. And it was a sight to behold whenever it appears._

_"You, Lelouch Lamperouge, are my Red."_

"Red," he utters as he remembers one of his most favorite memories.

"You look dumb smiling at nothing and talking to yourself," he hears Kallen say.

"Just reminiscing something fond."

This makes the red head raise her eyebrows. "Well, I gotta go. I need to find Gino before his clumsiness gets the better of him."

She has turned around when he tells her, "Thank you for being there for C.C. Thank you, Kallen."

Kallen turns to him, obviously surprised by his words. Lelouch and her have never really been close before. Their only common denominator that tied them together was C.C. But there was a civil understanding between them and that was to be always there for C.C. An indecisive look crosses Kallen's eyes until it is replaced by a persistent one. As if she had made a decision that she finally believes is right.

"I told you that she's happy, right?" He nods. "Yes, she's happy. But… there's something missing in her eyes. She always has this faraway look as if she's searching for something she doesn't even know what. And some nights, it breaks her. Some nights pain completely consumes her. I'm not saying this because I believe you can do something about it nor I want you to get back together." She shakes her head, "I don't even know why I'm telling you this. But you received an invitation. Dammit, you two are so complicated."

"Whatever your reason is, thank you for telling me, Kallen."

Kallen just shrugs and leaves him again on his own, at the same time the light dims and the host announces C.C.'s name for her to deliver her message in this highly anticipated art event wherein she showcases not only her paintings but also the arts of emerging artists who have no resources to show their outputs.

And there she is.  _Finally, there she is._

Actually standing infront of him, all flesh and blood and goddamn she's more beautiful than ever in that little black dress with her emerald hair loosely braided and his heart is beating so fast he might be having a heart attack for all he knows and she's glowing in the middle of the dimly lit room and he's being blinded and she starts to speak and her voice is the most beautiful music he has heard for years, the music he suddenly wants to put into notes and play in every concierto he will have and god-fucking-dammit,  _there she is._

His Red.

The message is brief. She mentions and thanks a lot of unfamiliar names. Then the next thing he knew, everyone is clapping and congratulating her and she's coming down the stage.

What should he do? Does he go to her and congratulate her for the job well done? He didn't even bring a bouquet. Why didn't he bring a bouquet? But will she talk to him? Will she even care to glance at him? After all that he had done, does she still care about him? But he did receive an invitation just like what Kallen had said, so it must mean something, right? At the very least, she wanted him to be there, right? Oh God, what if it was just a mistake, what if the invitation wasn't meant for him but for someone working in the same building as him and the prideful bastard that he is, assumed that it was for him as soon as he saw her name on the cover. He can't even remember if it was addressed to him. Fuck.

Not wanting to ruin her big day, he decided to leave without saying a word to her. Just finally seeing her in the flesh is more than enough. More than enough to bring back all the emotions and memories in one giant wave leaving him breathless.

Lelouch turns and starts to walk towards the exit when he hears, "Leaving already without even saying 'Hi'? I expected more from you, Lelouch."

He closes his eyes.

He takes a deep breath.

He tries to calm his wild heart.

Then he turns around.

"C.C… It's nice to see you, C.C."


End file.
